


Arrow and the Rapture

by geniewithwifi



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, AU First Encounter, Baby Sara - Freeform, Diggle Death, F/M, Gen, Goth!Felicity, Hong Kong!Oliver, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Marriage Proposal, Olicity Fluff, Season 1 Alternate Meeting, Team Arrow, established olicity, felicity's birthday, olicity angst, playboy oliver, shower fluff, toaster scare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:00:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 11,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3063704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geniewithwifi/pseuds/geniewithwifi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Olicity rambles and drabbles. Mostly tumblr prompts and things I dub long enough to go here.  A mixture of fluffy goodness and heartwrenching angst. Fair warning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Losing One of Their Own

**Author's Note:**

> **None of the works in the collection may be reposted without my consent**

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Arrow has a tragic loss and something must be done about the remaining problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH. If you're not comfortable, skip this chapter. I will always post about sensitive topics, just in case.

Oliver traipsed down the steps into the foundry, heart heavy. Felicity was already sobbing by her computer, curled up in her chair. He walked over to her, grief tearing him apart, and carefully laid a hand on her shoulder.

 

Instantly, she sprang up and into his arms, her tears soaking the leather. Oliver pulled her close, wrapping his arms tightly around her, trying to give her a little bit of comfort. But hee could feel his own tears fall slowly from his eyes.

 

 They stood like that for what seemed like hours, wrapped up in their own personal and shared grief. They had lost a brother, a companion, a partner, a _teammate_ , and there was nothing in the world that could fill that hole.

 

A shroud of dull nothingness had come over the foundry, enveloping them both in its silence. Oliver could hear the echoing steam that faintly reminded him of the screams he had heard hours ago. Screams they had _both_ heard, remembering in time that Felicity had been there as well, in omnipresent.

 

It was Felicity who moved first. Oliver’s muscles had frozen up, stiff in the slight coldness of the basement. She pushed against his chest, trying to get some space, but his arms wouldn’t move. After a few seconds, he finally released his crushing hold on her torso. She looked up at him, eyes swollen and red, and a slight snot dripping from her red, red nose.

 

In a small voice, one he almost didn't catch she voiced the question that had been plaguing him since it happened.

 

“What are we going to do now?”

 

Oliver just shook his head and buried his face in her hair. He wanted to run. He wanted to run as far away as he could, away from the tragedies that plagued his life. First it had been Tommy, then his mother, then Sara, and now...

 

All he wanted to do was to be isolated, like the island had taught him so many years before. To be alone is to be safe. No one can hurt you if you’re alone.

 

But he couldn’t leave her. He had Felicity now, his rock in this wretched storm that was his life. Perhaps he could run with her, leave this blasted city and run, run away…

 

Felicity’s small gasp pulled Oliver out of his desperate thoughts. He looked down to see her eyes trained on his hands. His gloves were soaked through with blood where he had tried to stop the bleeding. Diggle looking up at him, telling him that it was alright, that he would be with Lyla now. Oliver shook his head violently. He didn’t want to think about it right now.

 

Pulling on his training, he shoved all his feelings in the dark corner of his mind. A pleasant numbness replaced the horror of his thoughts.

 

Felicity pulled him towards the bathroom, removing the gloves as she did so. Oliver let her because he knew her way of coping was to do _something._ Whether it was run searches or sew him up or cook or bake—all things she had done in the past—her hands need to be kept busy so she could focus her brilliant mind on that.

 

Slowly, methodically, she washed his hands. Oliver watched as the water turned orange from the blood. When the water ran clear, she again tugged him out, pushing him on the med table. Slowly she unzipped his jacket and _yes, this is what he wants._ He just wants to get lost in her, a different type of running.

 

He reaches up with both of his hands, pulling her to him. He doesn’t care that he’s not that gentle as he kisses her. He stopped caring hours ago. Desperately, he pulls, tugs, biting her lip, begging entrance. She gasps as one of his hands finds the edge of her top, and touches her skin.

 

 Taking advantage, he darts his tongue in, exploring, tasting her. His mind goes blank and all he does is feel. He feels her, his is running to her. His hands run down over her ass to grip her thighs.  Just as he’s about to lift her up, to find the release he craves, suddenly, she pushes on him, sending her caterwauling back, stumbling on her own heels. He catches her hand, steadying her.

 

“Oliver….” His name is barely a breath. “No. You’re hurt. You’re _bleeding.”_ When she mentions it, Oliver realizes how much his back and arm hurt. He remembers there were bullets and a guy with a knife who had gotten him good.

 

Realizing that she had been trying to take care of him, not come on to him, he shrugged out of his jacket, wincing as the leather slid over his fresh wounds.

 

The black shirt came next, and he watched as she grabbed the suturing kit and antiseptics. Oliver went to a place in his mind as she went about her practiced ministrations, a place specially reserved for these kind of situations. He called it his ”island” because it’s where he would run from the pain. And today there was definitely a lot of pain.

 

A slamming of the overhead door, wrenched him back to the present. Felicity had finished and was handing him the gray hoody. The light footsteps down the stairs alerted him to Roy’s presence.

 

A tiny bundle was wrapped in his red leather clad arms.

 

“Sara…” Oliver realized. The child now had no home and no parents to take care of her.

 

“Lyla….. Lyla, she asked me to watch her…….she reminded me as….. well….she’s alone now.” Roy stumbled over his words. Oliver just stared, not knowing what to do.

 

Felicity, always the efficient one, took Sara from Roy, turning to Oliver.

 

“No, we’ll take care of her. Right?” She tried to smile, one that was half-hearted and fell as soon as it reached her eyes. Oliver was nodding.

 

“I owe him that— _we_ owe Dig that much.”

 

Abrubtly, Sara was shoved back in Roy’s arms and Felicity ran over to him. He grunted as she brushed his knife wound and battered ribs.

 

“I miss him Oliver. I miss him!” She sobbed. Gently, he stroked her hair.

 

“I do too, love, I do too.” He whispered.   

 

“I keep expecting him to come through that door, a dry remark about us being decent, and whether it was safe for him to come down…” Felicity trailed off, drawing away from him and back to Sara.

 

“We will be her parents now.” She stated firmly. “And she will know that her parents were heroes. Heroes.” Both Oliver and Roy nodded their agreement.

 

But no matter how much they tried, they knew deep in their hearts that their team would never be the same. Not without John Diggle. 


	2. Too Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity are opposed with each other...with the water temperature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fluff and smut was for [ skcoliciy ](www.skcolicity.tumblr.com) as a pick-me-up. I am not responsible for what follows.
> 
> Also, I'm not very well practiced in writing fluff so any feedback would be wonderful. 
> 
> Thank-you, wonderful people, for reading!

Oliver was giving her the look.

Not his I’m-a-scary-vigilante-fear-me-because-I’m-the-stuff-of-your-nightmares look _look_ but the look when he was exasperated by her sassiness. The sass she was very proud of seeing as she had Oliver Queen standing in front of her.

And so, _so_ turned on right now, as was evident by…. The words _his majestic glory_ came to her mind, which made her snort because… Queen. Majestic.

But she was getting off topic.

Oliver was looking at her, a slight smile on his face and mirth mixed with frustration. But no way was she going in there. Oh no. She had learned her lesson last time. When too hot skin met rock hard muscles, pain was always evident.

Not that he had meant to cause her pain, because Oliver would be horrified at the thought of hurting her. It’s just his preferences were different from hers.

A sigh from him caught her attention. Her mind had wandered. Again. She really, really, needed to try and get a hold of that.

Oliver’s half smirk had turned into full blown smirk, his hand reaching out to her.

“Fel-ic-i-ty, please?”

That did it. “Nu-uh. No way. Not happening. Nope. Never. Won’t do it.”

His head cocked to the side in confusion that was so cute, her resolve almost crumbled. Until she remembered what he wanted.

“I thought you liked it when I threw you up against the wall and rocked your world. Multiple times. In many different positions.”

Well, when he said it like that, Felicity flashed back to all the things they had done over the past couple weeks. And while it just might be worth it, tonight she was putting her foot down.

“Yes. I do like it when your mouth and tongue does wonders to get me off. Not to mention, all that,” she gestured to him in a vague wavy thing.  “But, Oliver, do you really have to turn the water all the way up to hotter than hot boiling water?”

Once she got that out, she was on a roll. “I mean I get that you spent years on an island with no hot water and it was just cold, colder than an iceberg there, and that you did all you could to keep warm, but no matter how many fires you made you couldn’t get warm. I also get that you’re a billionaire that can afford to have sixty hot water tanks that pump to one master suite shower with benches and movable heads. But I am a sensitive person who only likes the water a little bit over the halfway point. I know we just started this relationship and that I’m being very picky and—“

Oliver had picked her up and kissed her mid ramble, her legs automatically wrapping around him. She groaned as she felt him near where she needed him most.

“I love you, you know.” He whispered as soon as he could tear his mouth away. “You could’ve just said that the water was too hot.”

She smiled at him. “But I love you, so I just took it. If you really need it that hot, I guess I can stand it. For a little while.”

A wild, hungry look darkened his eyes. Oliver whirled around and slammed the shower door shut so that he could have his wicked ways with her.

Not before her turned down the water to just above half.


	3. That Toaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: imagine the most serious character you know. Now imagine them getting scared by the toaster going off as they walk by

"Oliver, what happened to the toaster?" Felicity looked over at her boyfriend who was studiously going over the most recent case file from Captain Lance. Oliver looked up and stated with a straight face "I have no idea."

"Really? I find that hard to believe. I remember making toast yesterday morning with a perfect toaster. Now it has two arrows in it. Green Arrows.” Felicity held up the toaster with two very sharp arrows penetrating the metal appliance. One was through the device itself and the other had sliced through a piece of cold, hardened toast, pinning it to the metal cage inside.

"Now unless there is another copycat archer that uses green arrows, the very same ones that you personally make and use, that you haven’t told me of, then these are definitely your arrow and you’re lying to me. Which would be totally ridiculous because you tell me everything because you’re my boyfriend and we spend all our time together between the company and our nighttime activities— both kinds. Which last night I think trumped the two nights before when we where in the bed and you had me…three… two…. one. “

Felicity took a deep breath after she realized that she had been rambling and neither of them needed the reminder of what had happened last night. Because God…. it was…. 

Felicity shook her head. “I reiterate. What. Happened. To. My. Toaster?”

Oliver gave her a sheepish grin before ducking his head. 

"I shot it."

Felicity huffed. “I think i got that from the physical evidence of two arrow ruining it. Why did you shoot it.”

"Because it popped."

"Of course it popped. It’s designed for that." 

Oliver sighed, giving into his girlfriends interrogation. 

"I shot it because when I came home from visiting with Captain Lance, it was dark and there was a sudden noise when it popped. I reacted, thinking it was an intruder and we now have a broken toaster. My question is why were you making toast?”

"Because I was hungry! That’s why most people make food. I put it in because I was waiting for you but I guess I forgot about it when you came home."

"How?" Oliver cocked his head.

"Seriously? Do you even remember last night? Because I certainly do. The way your hands went down my back…. and how magical your mouth is…”

Suddenly Oliver was picking her up and carrying her away from the kitchen. Just before his mouth descended to her he whispered in her ear “of course I remember last night. And I want a repeat. Without that damned toaster.”


	4. Playboy Facade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sharingmyworld requested: ”playboy” Oliver walking into a club like in that gifset when he catches a glimpse of Felicity (either by the bar or dancing with her friends, I’m not picky). He does that reaction thing to her like in S1 and then he makes it a point to talk to her .. al while trying to keep the facade of being this playboy and she’s not buying it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I posted a shorter version of this yesterday on tumblr, but I didn't really like where I had gone with it. So I changed it up. It's definitely smuttier than the first one. Enjoy! Reviews feed the Muse!

Oliver was fashionably late. 

As the playboy icon demanded, Ollie Queen was not suppose to arrive on time. Before the island there were many excuses as to why. Now, there was a legitimate reason more so than just appearances. 

Tactical advantage being the most prominent.

He had requested the party here so he could get to Adam Hunt with no issues and a sleek cover, because Hunt had gotten the cops involved. Earlier, when he had ditched Diggle, he had scouted the place out. He wanted to know every exit and stairway in that building before he confronted Hunt Always have an exit strategy was one of the things he had learned in the past five years. Especially before going into enemy territory. That is what each and every person on the list was: An Enemy.

After scoping both places out- placing a zipline across the street, planning to go in through the elevators— he had made it home at the time the party was suppose to start. He then had to change and let Diggle- who had had the nerve to sit in the back seat with him— accompany him to Tommy’s nightlife. And what was suppose to be Ollie’s nightlife.  
Oliver glanced down at his phone. One hour. And still there was no money from Adam Hunt. Had he expected him to deliver? No. Men like Hunt never did as they were told. Which is why he had taken precautions. But that doesn’t mean that Oliver didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. There was a slim chance, but it was there. But only one. Oliver would then take him out.

He continued down the stairs. Tommy turned from where he was draped with women, motioning frantically to the DJ. Patting Oliver on the chest, he yelled as loud as he could, “Hey Hey Hey Hey!! MAN OF THE HOOOUUUURRRRRR!!!!” The crowd cheered. Oliver slipped on the playboy persona, desperately trying hard not to let them know how much the loud noise made him tense up, just waiting for someone to attack. 

Quickly giving a bland speech about tequila, he was able to slip off the stage. But not before he caught a slip of blonde hair. 

He ignored Tommy, giving him a classic Ollie wink. The one that was code for found-a-hot-piece-and-I’m-going-to-go-hit-that. Tommy gave him a knowing smile and turned to the brunette handing on his arm.

The blonde he had spotted earlier was over by the open bar, sipping something bright purple. She was wearing a skin tight, blazing red dress, that ended halfway down her thigh. It highlighted her very bright hair and red lipstick. For some reason she seemed familiar but he couldn’t put his finger on it. As luck would have it, she was sitting alone.  
He fed her a line, sitting down next to her. “I know a better place you can put those lips besides a straw.” He smirked cockily, hoping that she would fall for it. What he didn’t expect was her reaction.

“Aww Hell No. No. Just No. Out of all the girls in this place he has to sit next to me. Why oh why did I let Marcy drag me to this. Just because a billionaire comes back from the dead doesn’t mean we should go party. With him. Why not do it home alone in comfortable outfits without a bra… and I’m talking about my bra in from of Oliver Queen. Gah, why can’t I stop talking. You. Go. Away.” And she turned her back on him. 

Quickly, he slipped to the other side. “Ah, don’t be like that.” He reached out and touched her wrist. There was a sharp spark that had them both retracting. She reached down and rubbed her wrist. Then she looked up and all he could see was her very cerulean eyes. 

There was a click. 

No way. It was the same girl. The very same girl that had called him cute two and a half years ago. The girl that had walked in on him stealing information from his family’s company.

The first person he had seen as a person since the island.

Screw Ollie. He wasn’t him anymore. And he wanted this girl who had changed him, gave him a laugh in the middle of some very dark years, to know the real him. 

“Sorry. Here, let me start over.” He got comfortable, signaling to the bar tender for a shot. “I’m Oliver Queen, shipwreck survivor, emotionally unhealthy twenty seven year old, and I’m stuck in a party where I don’t want to be. What’s your name?”

She looked at him curiously, like he was a puzzle she was suddenly desperate to solve. “Felicity. Smoak. MIT Class of 09. I know who you are Mr. Queen.” She quietly appraised him. “Bet you don’t want to be here because of how crowded it is and you’ve just spent five years by yourself. I know I wouldn’t want to be anywhere near a large group of people when all I’ve known is me, myself and Wilson.”

She hit the problem right on the nail. He smiled faintly as he remembered making a similar crack to Slade. 

“No,” he quipped back, “I had a black companion named Friday who only spoke gibberish.”

That made her laugh. And suddenly he wanted to see it again and again. The bartender came with his vodka and he gulped it down quickly. 

“Well, Felicity, since I don’t want to be anywhere near a large crowd, how about we take this discussion to the hall? What do you think?”

She raised both her eyebrows incredulously. “Are you sure that’s all we would be doing? Talking?” He winked as he grabbed her hand, pulling her off the stool and through the crowd. Surprisingly, she came willingly. 

Reaching the quiet of the hallway, the pounding bass just an echo in his ear, he visibly relaxed. He looked over at Felicity who smiled at him. Tightening her hand on his she pulled him to a stop.

“You know, why do you try so hard to make people think you’re just a floozy? One of those play boys who only want a girl for a tight pussy? Five years would change anyone, especially a person who lost his father and the sister of his girlfriend. You, Mr. Queen, have shadowed eyes. Someone who has stared into the abyss of humanity and saw the depths. No one stays the same after that. I know I didn’t.”

Felicity leaned up against the wall gesturing with a hand. “I did something stupid in college and my boyfriend took the fall for me. He…he uh committed suicide in prison. Losing him,” she shrugged, “affected me so much that I altered my image, who I was, what I felt about myself. I became this. And you, Oliver Queen, are no different.”

Stunned, he just stared at her, really deeply. She had touched on something no other person had. Not Shado, not Slade, not Maseo or Kynesyev. What he had gained from the past years of hell was clarity. He saw human kind for what it was; corrupted and only he could change it. 

She licked her lips nervously, like she was ashamed of her wise words. “You know I could just be spouting nonsense, I mean who am I to tell you who you are or what you know. Maybe you are just a playboy who didn’t change from an island vacation for five--“

Oliver couldn’t take it anymore. He slammed her up against the wall, mouth colliding against hers. Oh, she was so soft and electric, chills zinging up his spine. He would die a happy man if his last action was kissing her. Somewhere deep inside him something coupled with the woman in front of him. As if there where two twin souls who recognized each other.

She groaned into his mouth, making him rock hard. His hand tangled in her hair, tugging her head back for better access. His other hand trailed down, rubbing circles down down down, until he reached her thigh, hooking it up around his waist. She bucked her hips at that and they both moaned at the sensation. He started humping against her, his mouth tearing from her to her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. All over he left fiery kisses against her skin. 

Felicity’s hands were hooked around the back of his neck, tugging him forward, gasping loudly at the sensations running through her body. She dragged one finger down his chest, alighting a fire inside of him. He growled and she laughed, his growl catching in his chest as she grabbed him. He moaned, and he was embarrassed how loud it was. But right now, he didn’t care. An ravishing, beautiful woman was in front of him and he hadn’t gotten lucky for so long, he deserved this. He didn’t deserve anything right now, not with this angel worshiping him. Her hands caught on his pants and she popped the button, him straining, needing her to pull the rest down so he could have his wicked way with her… 

Suddenly, his phone buzzed. Damn it. He pushed away from Felicity, swear profusely under his breath. She just gazed at him like he had offered the world and then had cruely taken it away from him. And in some ways, he guessed he had. He pulled out his phone. Ten o’ Clock and Hunt still hadn’t delivered the money.

He sighed. Duty called.

“Hey, Felicity, I have to go. But when I get back, do you want to maybe, I don’t know, finish this? Or do something else?”

“Is Oliver Queen really asking me out on a date right now? Or is it something else entirely? Sorry, handsome, I don’t put out on a first date. Or a first meeting. Or whatever this is. I didn’t mean to call it a date because it is definitely not a date. Why do I do this to myself?” 

“Really? You looked pretty willing to put out just now.” She hit him. 

“That was a one time offer, Oliver, and since you’re skipping out, I guess the sale is over. Not that I’m something to purchase I’m not a hooker and you really didn’t need to know that.”

He grinned. “See you around, Felicity.” He pecked her on the lips. Straightening out his clothes, he walked away from her, but not without a look back. She had a dazed look on her face and was touching her lips wondrously. Oh how he wished he could go back and touch her lips for her…

Focus, Oliver. The mission comes first. The guilty must pay for their crimes. 

Over the next weeks he never really forgot about her. She was never far from his mind, but he was busy with the list. He knew he could never have time for a real relationship.   
It wasn’t until Deadshot put bullets in his laptop that he found her. How many Felicity Smoaks with a degree from MIT were there? Only one.

And when he walked into her office that next morning, he vowed he would never walk away from her again.


	5. The Earrings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> nikkibeckettcsm asked:  
> Oliver is going to kill her. 10 hours, thats all it took 10 hours since he gave her those amazing, gorgeous earrings for her birthday and she loses them before she can even wear them for her birthday dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's uber short. Sorry guys

_Oliver is going to kill her. 10 hours, thats all it took 10 hours since he gave her those amazing, gorgeous earrings for her birthday and she loses them before she can even wear them for her birthday dinner_

She knew that she hadn’t moved them from underneath her clothes in her dresser. Ten million dollar earrings aren’t supposed to be touched. let alone laid out in the open. 

But she had gone through her entire drawer and Felicity  _couldn’t find them!_ She double checked each drawer. Nothing. No gray box to be found. 

Violently, she started throwing the clothes out of the drawer, individually shaking them out. When the drawer was empty, she moved on to the next one. 

Finding the entire dresser empty, she switched to the vanity. Same thing.  _No earrings._

She could hear Oliver calling her from the landing. “Felicity! We’re starting! If you’re not here in five minutes we’re going to eat the cake without you!”

Felicity lent out the door. “Oliver Jonas Queen don’t you dare touch my chocolate chip chocolate cake with edible candles! I PAID EXTRA FOR THAT!”

She could hear his answering chuckle, but was too distracted to pay heed to it. Where had those demmed earrings gotten to?

Felicity tore apart the bathroom, all the drawers emptied out. She shuffled through the closet, including Oliver’s side. She hunted through every single nook in cranny in the entire bedroom. No emerald earrings.

“Felicity, babe, if you want some of that—What happened in here??!” Oliver burst through the door. Felicity had collapsed on the unmade bed, surrounded by every article of clothing they owned. The bathroom was a mess, the closet empty, and the vanity disorganized. What concerned him the most was Felicity. She looked almost close to tears.

“Hey… hey what’s wrong. Come here love.” He approached the bed, sitting down next to her. She looked up at him, then admitted her fear.

“I lost the earrings you gave me.”

What she did not expect was for Oliver to light up in remembrance, then cower in fear and embarrassment. 

“Um, I might have pocketed them for safe keeping and forgot to give them back to you?”

Felicity picked up a pillow at her feet and started beating him with it. 

“If Roy has eaten any of my cake because you are dumb headed enough to move my jewelry without tell me you are going to pay Mr. Queen.”

It turned out that Roy had accidentally knocked the cake to the ground. Oliver slept in a guest bedroom for a month. 


	6. Turn Your Eyes to the Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked:
> 
> Felicity thinks Oliver might be having an affair because he's been distracted, when really he's waiting for a time to propose to her and is worried about her response

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was suppose to be part of my six sentence bash but um...it sort of got away from me. Angst and Fluff!! My favorite combination!!

The late nights were the cincher.

Oliver had been avoiding her. For a person she usually spent 24 hours a day with, she hadn’t seen him except for glances across the room. 

At night, he barely spared her a glance before suiting up. She told him all the information he needed over the comms. When he came back from patrol, he ignored her, working the salmon ladder or beating the dummy senseless until she left. 

In the morning, the bed was cold. 

Felicity thought it was just something he needed to work through. This had happened before, just not this intense. He would close off for a couple days, and then come back to her, telling her what had been wrong, what he had done to try and fix it, and then either asked her opinion or told her what she could do to help him. 

But this went on for weeks. 

A cold bed, ignoring phone calls and texts. 

There was only one explanation after she ran through dozens of theories. 

He was cheating on her.

After all, Oliver was still Oliver and his MO was cheating. Laurel had told her many nightmare stories of Oliver cheating on her, just so Felicity could be prepared, just in case. She never thought she would have to use the advice. Oliver cheating on her was so unthinkable. 

He loved her.

Or that’s what she thought. 

Knowing the heartbreak it would bring, since she loved Oliver with every fiber of her being, she faced up to the fear. She would confront him. 

A calm night, that night, provided the opportunity. Dig, Thea and Roy both called it a night, leaving as quickly as possible. Laurel just gave Felicity a nod before disappearing out the alley door. Finally her and Oliver were alone.

“Are you going to come down from there or do I have to call the fire department to come get you down?” She asked sarcastically. Oliver froze on the salmon ladder, hanging by his finger tips. Slowly, he let go, dropping into a crouch. 

He burrowed his eyebrows worryingly. “Are you okay?”

Felicity threw up her hands. “No! Okay, no! Of course I’m not okay! My boyfriend is refusing to talk to me, let alone look at me. I mean, he hasn’t slept in the same bed as me for weeks. At first, I was willing to be patient, understanding. But seriously Oliver? Cheating?”

“wha?”

“Don’t play coy with me. Why else would you avoid me day in and day out? In meetings, here, even at home! A home that is not a home for me without you! Am I so unworthy and disgusting to you now that you can’t stand the sight of me? You never touch me, smile at me. Tell me what I did wrong. Because I can’t for the life of me remember. So you’re going to half to enlighten me, becuase I don’t know Oliver!

Is it that I am horrible in bed? Is that it? That you are not getting the pleasure you seek or that you resent always going down on me but I rarely go down on you. Is this it? Because all you had to do was ask Oliver. I am willing to learn and try harder. But this isn’t the answer. You going to her bed and I won’t tolerate it Oliver, I won’t! I love you and I thought you loved me, but I guess I was wrong. You lied to me just as you lie to everyone around you.”

Felicity lost her steam. “I thought I was the one person you didn’t lie to.”

She collapsed in her chair, hands cupping her face as she sobbed into them. She felt Oliver moving around before approaching her but she was too devastated to care. 

Oliver’s hands wrapped around her hands, bringing them down to clutch in her lap.

“Felicity… I love you.” He shook his head. “Nothing is ever going to change that. No, I’m not cheating on you. As for the rest,  no you are perfect. Perfect. And I enjoy giving you pleasure. It’s one of my favorite things.”

“But…the empty bed and…and the avoiding..and”

“I was nervous. God I was nervous that I would give it all away if I was around you too much. You know I can’t lie to you. And I really wanted to surprise you with this. I didn’t count on you overreacting or taking it the wrong way. 

I’m sorry, so sorry Felicity. And I guess all my efforts would be in vain if you think I’m cheating on you. It’s not worth it to have you hate me trying to keep this secret. 

“So, Felicity Megan Smoak, the woman I love, the woman who has always believed in me. will you do me the greatest honor of…” Oliver reached into his pocket, pulling out a small black box, “becoming my wife?”.

Reaching out slowly, she took it, opening it. A beautiful engagement ring sat in black satin. All this pain, the avoidance was to surprise her, not to hurt her. And he knew her so well that she would have seen right through him and figured it out. 

“Oh Oliver…yes. Yes a thousand yeses. Just, in the future, don’t do the avoidance.” He chuckled before pulling her into a kiss. She continued to jabber while he placed the ring on her finger. 

“ Don’t think of a way to surprise me until the day before. Maybe even a week before. This being apart thing is… not fun. Got it?”

“yes, future Mrs Queen, I get it. And for future reference, I would be the stupidest man alive to cheat on someone as amazing and beautiful as you. Just for the record.”

“Good.” Felicity smiled, placing her hand on his heart before leaning up for a searing kiss.


	7. The Plane 3x20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> anonymous asked: I can just imagine Oliver losing it on the plane, saying that he has nobody now, and Felicity says "you have me"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is what happens when I just meant to make a comment...and it turned into a small drabble.
> 
> This one is short

He’s sitting across from her, his face buried in his hands. The anguish and heartbreak and grief was plain upon his face. Felicity knew that Oliver was really hurt. Never, in the history of knowing him, would he have let anyone see how much pain he was truly in.

How much this contrasted with Sara’s death. He had shut her out, slammed the door closed and was strong.

Yet the man she saw in front of her, this man who was breaking down to tears, in her opinion, was showing her just how strong he was. His strength came from the power of his love.

 _This_ is how she wanted to be loved. Whole-heartedly. Without doubt. By a  _man_ not a  _weapon._

“I don’t have anyone anymore. I’m all alone in this.” His voice broke on the word alone.

“Hey” She leaned forward, cradling his head in her palms. He turned his head into one. “You have me. You will always have me.I love you.”

She didn’t know what to expect when she told him this, but it wasn’t this. He kissed her palm, trailing his fingers up her arms, across her shoulders, down her back to her waist, There he pulled her into his lap, burying his face in the juncture between her neck and shoulder.

“I love you.” he whispered back. She caressed his hair, stroking his scalp. No more words were spoken for the longest time.

In truth, they didn’t need them.

They never had needed them.


	8. Storage4you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> andcreation asked: Felicity finds one of Oliver's childhood art projects

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm looking for my muse. Since the beginning of May it has runoff and I haven't been able to find it since. Wanna help me find it? Send me an ask over on tumblr! [HERE](geniewithwifi.tumblr.com)
> 
> Reviews feed the Muse (when I find it)

* * *

 

“That is… a lot… of  _stuff._ Why are we here again Oliver?” Felicity looked over at her fiance’.  _Fiance’._ That word still sent chills down her spine. She was his and she was filled with elation just thinking about it. 

Two weeks ago, out of the blue, Oliver proposed. They hadn’t even gone on a date yet -not counting the disastrous first one- and they were enganged. But Felicity knew that she and Oliver weren’t normal; normal was  _not_ running around in costumes shooting bad guys in the knees. 

Being normal, however, was not a top priority list for either Oliver and Felicity. They were content with what they had–each other. 

And that was all that mattered. 

Oliver interrupted Felicity’s thoughts. “The Queen family has the art down of keeping things safe. High valuable things go in a vault. Sentimental, but of equal value go where no one would think the Queens would ever go. Storage4you.”

Felicity cocked her head at him, smiling gently. “Huh. I never would have thought of that. I guess I have to give your family some brains.”

Oliver leaned down to kiss her but Felicity was distracted by something glinting in the corner. Oliver chuckled gently as she dodged his kiss, her brain running a million miles a minute at her curiosity. 

There was a purple bicycle in the corner, frayed ribbons dangling from the handle bars. “Why is this here?” Felicity asked, running her hands over the seat, coming away gathered in dust.

“I made it when I was 16, for Thea’s six birthday. I even taught her how to ride it. She would beg and beg every day for me to take her out riding. Most of the time I would ignore her. Thinking back I wish I spent more time with her than partying. But the times I did go riding with her, those are the moments I cherish.” 

Felicity cast a glance over at her partner, seeing a melancholy regretful expression upon his face. Hopping over discarded items, she enveloped him in a hug, squeezing tight. 

“Hey, it’s alright. Thea loves you.  _I_ love you. Everything you went through back then made you the man you are today. Mistakes are a learning tool. They teach us about who we are, and most importantly, people we  _don’t want to be. ‘_ Ollie’ was just that. A stepping stone, the wrong path.

“Someone once told me that the only way we know the right road to travel is by taking the wrong road first. That way we know for sure what the correct path is to take.”

By the end of her little speech, a spark had reignited in Oliver’s eyes and a smile graced his features. 

“Thank-you.” He said, kissing her head. 

Felicity looked past his shoulder, her glance catching something.

“What’s this?” She asked, stepping past her.

Oliver turned around, found what held Felicity’s attention and immediately started to panic. “No. Nothing. it’s nothing. Felicity… no, please–” but she lifted up a ceramic pot, messily covered in green and orange paint, the letters: Olvr carved into it. 

“Did Thea make this?”

Oliver snorted, scuffing his feet. “No. It’s mine.”

Felicity looked it over, then made a sad noise when she noticed a chip. Looking carefully, she found out that the pot was cracked all over and glued back together. 

“What happened to it? It looks like it went three rounds with Matt Murdock.”

“Who– nevermind. Oh look, my father’s first golf club.”

“Oliver… Stop avoiding the question. Come on. Please? I want to know everything about you. Even stuff like this. Please.”

Oliver stopped pretending to examine his father club, finding a seat in an old lawn chair of his mothers. Felicity came over and settled in his lap. He carefully took the pot from her hands, turning it slowly around. 

“I made it in third grade, I believe. I don’t remember exactly. I was so proud of it, that I had made it all by myself. I took it home to show my parents. My father was in his study, and wouldn’t let me in. So I brought it to my mother. Told her it was a gift for her. She glanced at it, told me she liked the colors. But when she saw that I had misspelled my name, she gave me a look that told me that she was disappointed in me and left it on the table, rejecting it. 

“In despair and anger at myself, I threw it on the ground, shattering it. I’m ashamed to admit I ran crying to my bedroom. Ii believe I fell asleep. When I woke up, I found the pot sitting on my table, glued back together except for a chip in the top. To this day, I still don’t know who put it back together. At first, I thought it was Raisa. But I’ve given it a long hard thought and eventually came to the conclusion that it was my mother. It was her apology to me for the way she had acted. My mother wasn’t perfect, but she did love me.”

Felicity had stayed silent during the entire story. She reached up and caressed Oliver cheek. He expected her to comfort him, say words that would sooth the ache of a child’s broken heart. But as always, she surprised him. 

“Thank-you, Oliver.” With that, she put the pot down and skipped over to another part of the storage garage, her excited exclaims echoing back to him. Throwing aside the gloomy atmosphere he joined her. Oliver’s grandmother’s valise had to be somewhere around here. 


	9. No Goodbyes and No Hellos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mel-loves-all said: Story prompt: Olicity: Oliver’s Black T-shirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is short. Running on two hours of sleep. Sorry guys.
> 
> I'm doing a May Full of Prompts. Everyday I'm promising to write a drabble from a prompt in order to get my muse back. Wanna help me find my muse? Then send me a prompt over on Tumblr! [RIGHT HERE](http://geniewithwifi.tumblr.com/ask)
> 
> Reviews feed the muse!!
> 
> Angst. Set after 3x20

 

****

When Oliver left for Nanda Parbart, there was nothing left of him for Felicity. Nothing  _physical._

Oh she held is heart inside of her, given to her in one desperate attempt to keep his soul. It was a gift she held on to with fervent valor, her tiny piece of the man she loved.

The man who left her.

Again.

Oh he stubbornly refused to say goodbye, the only closure she could get denied by the one causing it. A conudrum of paradoxes, not having the chance to bid farewell, forbidden by the one who knew he wasn’t coming back.

There wasn’t a goodbye because there wouldn’t be another hello.

Somehow, Felicity was able to hold in the tears the mile trek to Ray Palmer’s Plane. Her emotions stayed bound the eight hour plane ride home. The anguish eating her up inside held from devouring until the second she walked in her townhome door. There she collapsed, heaving against the door.

She was still there when the sun rose, shedding happy light she was  _not_ in the mood for. Angry at the world, angry at Oliver, angry at Ra’s Al Ghul, angry at the damn sunshine for brightening her day, dispersing her gloomy atmosphere, she tromped to the window, tugging the curtains closed. As was Felicity’s luck, and a damper on an already horrible day, the curtain ripped, the sunshine peaking back through.

“GO AWAY!” She yelled at the creeping sunshine, which, as always ignored her tone. Kicking off her heels, she ran out of the living room. But no matter where she went, there was the sunshine, mocking her. 

Just as she was about to climb under her bed in desperation, Felicity spied her closet door, halfway open. Frantically, she shut herself in, total darkness enveloping her.

Childishly scooting backwards on her bumb, Felicity found herself underneath her hanging clothes. One last shove rearwards had her slamming into something hard.

Something that wasn’t the wall.

Something she didn’t remember putting there.

Felicity tore out of her closet, flipping on the light before poking her head back in.

There, against the back wall, was a familiar green chest with chinese characters decorating the lid.

Oliver’s Chest.

When Roy cooked up his brilliant plan to get Oliver out of jail, Felicity and Diggle had gathered up some of Oliver’s more sentimental and sensitive items. His chest with an old wooden bow, his herbs and the infamous notebook.

Missing Oliver fiercly, and presented with a gift such as this, Felicity crept forward, tugging the box out and opening it, settling herself in front of it.

Reverently, she combed through the items: all the objects previously listed were there, as was some other odds and ends, such as an opened vodka bottle.

Instead of the chest bringing comfort to her aching soul, it just brought back unwanted, painful memories of Oliver. It was all Oliver. She was being smothered by the very essence of Oliver and the man who she fell in love with all contain in one simple case.

Intending to slam the lid close, desiring to get the wretched thing from her sight, she caught a glimpse of something black in the corner, half hidden under the blanket. Carefully, Felicity pulled it out, letting it fall open.

It was Oliver’s black t-shirt. The long sleeved one he usually wore under the suit; the suit that was in police lockup.

Somehow it has been saved in all the chaos of the past week. Felicity cradled it to her face, inhaling the half-lingering scent. The shirt smelled of sweat, blood and dirt. But under all that, Felicity could detect something musky, something has was distinctly ‘Oliver’. Never had she smelled anything like it except in his presence.

Quickly, she pulled it over her head, a warm embrace from a man 6,000 miles away. just that simple act brought the raging sea to the forefront again, the pitiful sand barriers being washed away.

Felicity reached in and grabbed the vodka, taking a sip, planing to drown her sorrow away with memories and alcohol.

Because there were no hellos without goodbyes.


	10. Hanging Up the Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skcolicity asked:  
> Felicity's reaction to Oliver hanging up the hood "for good"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy reading!! 
> 
> Part of my Mayful of Prompts!

“Wait, you’re leaving it? All of it? Everything you’ve done for the past three years?”

Felicity was shocked. She couldn’t decide if it was a bad shock or a good shock. She was just  _shocked._

This was so unlike Oliver.

But the more she thought about it, it was just like him.

Oliver rarely, if ever did things half-way. He is an all or nothing kind of man. Except when it came to them. There was one way to deal out justice in the beginning, there was one way to Oliver’s team, there is one way for the mission to end.

To him, there is only one way.

For her, there are many ways. Her time at MIT taught her this. Just like there is more than one way to solve a math problem the same applies to the hard decisions of life. 

There is another way.

So shetold him that, almost two years ago. And strangely enough, Oliver listened to her. He almost always listened to her. 

Four months ago, Felicity had begged Oliver, when he was leaving to go face Ra’s, the same conversation when he had first told her he loved her– and really meant it– to  _kill_ Ra’s Al Ghul. To break his vow to Tommy’s memory and take a life of an evil man.

Tonight he fulfilled this promise to her. 

But now he’s hanging up the Hood. 

For her. 

“I know. I’ve been the Arrow for so long, this weapon that I am, that I couldn’t see past it. But I  _can’t_ be the Arrow. The Arrow died when Roy left. I can’t be anyone anymore. What I can be, Felicity, is something  _new._ And if you want, you can help me.”

“Of course, I’ll do anything with you. I love you. But are you sure? You really sure?”

Oliver shook his head, his hands coming to clasp hers. 

“All I know is I want to be with you. I’m tied of pushing you away and denying myself happiness. That is what you deserve, and I want to be that person. If that means giving up being a hero, then oh well. That is a sacrifice I’ll be happy to make.”

Felicity smiled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “Anything.”

 


	11. Inconsistencies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver likes his constants. Felicity is one of them.
> 
> Surprisingly, so is Connor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted on tumblr for an MTV Vote Reblog. 
> 
> Takes place sometime in the future after the end of Season 3.

Oliver Queen relied on consistency.

Five years of reoccurring irregularities and tragic events and Oliver was done with flying on the seat of his pants. 

He always had a plan. Even if it was made in a millisecond right before confrontation, he always had a plan.

Shooting an arrow was consistent. 

Nock, draw, anchor, aim, breath and release, repeat. 

His arrow always hit his target that way. That was his consistency. 

Felicity became another of his consistencies. The one he most heavily relied on, cherished. She was his rock, his pillar, his salvation from the guilty nest he had made his home. 

He had a plan when they came back to Starling City. He was going to make a life with Felicity.

But even with all his careful planning, and meticulous structure and Felicity by his side, his life never did what he wanted it to. 

In the fact that while in the middle of attempting to propose to Felicity, she blurted out that she’s pregnant and Captain Lance knocks on his door with an eight-year old. 

Life’s a bitch that way. 

Oliver is suddenly thrust, not only just into husband-hood but fatherhood as well. To two children that he never expected. 

Just because neither of them were expected didn’t mean that Oliver didn’t love them . They were a part of him, one made with the woman he loved above all others and another, a gift in this trying time. 

Because Connor forgave him. 

Sandra had died in a car crash, Connor coming out of that with just scrapes and bruises. With no living relative appearing, he was almost sent to the system. Until one tech down at the CCPD had made a comment to Joe about a “Jonas Queen” as his father. Joe had told Barry who had told Cisco who ran some searches and realized that Connors father was indeed Oliver Queen. 

Lance wasn’t very happy with Oliver when he dropped Connor off at his and Felicity’s place, because he could do the math and Lance had figured out that Oliver had cheated on Laurel with someone besides Sara. However, Lance looked at him pitily because the Captain knew that no one was ever ready to be a parent, especially to an eight year old. 

Connor had been wary, morose and distant the first couple weeks. Felicity was a godsend as she was able to bridge the gap between father and son. 

It was by accident that Oliver discovered Connors love for the Arrow. 

In the bottom of Connor’s suitcase was article clippings for almost all of the Arrow’s deeds. Very few, if none, mentioned the Hood. 

When Oliver asked his son about it, Connor had shrugged, scuffed his feet, and mumbled something about admiring The Arrow. The Arrow was Connor’s Hero, the man he looked up to. 

A few weeks later, Oliver picked up the bow again. 

Two weeks after that, Connor figured it out. Why his dad was always gone, why Felicity was always tired, her fingers cramping. 

It had been Oliver’s fault. 

He had gifted Felicity an arrow earring for her industrial and Connor got suspicious because his dad had traded knowing glances with Felicity. So he watched them, listened to them, stalked them. 

Connor overheard Felicity talking on a satellite phone and the name Roy Harper was mentioned. Unfortunately for Oliver and his plan on not telling Connor, his son knew how to do his homework. And Roy taking the blame for Oliver for the Arrow was the last glimpse Connor had of his idol. 

Connor confronted Oliver. Demanded to see the “Arrow Cave” and why didn’t Oliver tell him? His father was his hero. The very man he always wanted to meet but was dead but suddenly wasn’t dead. 

Connor wasn’t happy with Oliver and the distant that Felicity had been able to bridge widened beyond her control. Days passed and Connor refused to speak to either of them.

Then one day, Connor came into the living room where Oliver was. In his hands were clippings, all the clippings of The Hood and what he had done. 

And then Connor had done the most amazing thing. He ripped up the articles and threw himself into Oliver’s lap. 

“Dad. I don’t know why you did these things. All I know is I forgive you. And I love you”. 

It had been a long time since Oliver had cried. But Connor was the best inconsistency that Oliver hadn’t planned for.


	12. Flommy Drinks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flommy with a little bit of Olicity

_“_ I”m not drunk enough for this” was Felicity’s first thought when she felt the hand on her lower back. A man, probably drunk, was coping a feel of her, and she was  _not_ fine with this. Unless copious amounts of alcohol were consumed. Hence the thought. 

A low chuckle alerted Felicity to the fact that she had said that outloud–as per usual. 

“I can remedy that.” Came the low smooth voice. 

Felicity turned around, hair swishing to her side. The hand had moved around her side when she turned, the hand barely brushing the side of her breast. That fact was pushed aside in the revelation that her accosted was  _Tommy Fracking Merlyn._

The owner of the hottest bar in town. 

Her brain caught up and sprinted ahead of her shock, dragging up example of example of why talking to Tommy Merlyn was a bad idea. First on the list was the fact that he was an incorrigible flirt and a player. Felicity was looking for committment and Tommy was the furthest thing from it. 

“What’ll you have?” He inquired, an elbow bent on the counter beside her. 

“Wine. Make it the reddest one you got.” Her mouth opened without permission. As Tommy turned to the barkeep, Felicity made faces, cursing her stupid habit of speaking without thinking. 

Which was ironic since she thought  _fast._ She was a genius after all. This was not a genius move though, talking to Tommy Merlyn. Not at all. 

“On the house.” He smirked at her, turning to face her once again. This time, she bit her tongue and gave him her best, don’t-mess-with-me look. 

He just grinned and handed her the red. 

Against her better judgement, she fell under Merlyn’s charms for a one night fling, just so she could tell someone that she slept with Tommy Merlyn like an idiotic jealous school girl. 

Little did she know that he wouldn’t be the only billionaire she slept with.  


	13. His this the Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on that promo that has a certain something in a certain someone's souffle that was placed by a certain someone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> previously posted on my tumblr

The first time he said it, it was in a dream.

Three months of exploring the world, from Italy to Coast City, and he was in bliss. Heaven couldn’t compare to this paradise that had become his life. He definitely didn’t deserve it but Oliver had it all the same. 

Curled up next to Felicity, satisfied from showing her his love, having her feel it all the way to her toes, he slept peacefully. He dreamed of him and her, in this giant house. The photos were on the mantle, Felicity bustling in the kitchen and Oliver just leaned against the door frame, quietly chuckling at the burning food and Felicity with her nose in a cookbook, not paying attention. 

“Will you marry me?”

The second time he said it, he was speaking to himself. 

He was in that house, the one that he had dream of, souffles in the oven, his beautiful Felicity upstairs, dolling herself up, him pacing back and forth muttering: ‘Felicity, will you do me the honor… no will you … not that. Will you marry me? Will  _you_ marry  _me?_ Will you _marry_ me?”  But no matter the way he said it, it never sounded right.

The third time he said it was  _not_ that night. 

The third time he said it was 9 months later, before the biggest battle of his life. He had to face her father. And no it wasn’t the “May I have your blessing to marry my daughter speech”. Instead, Felicity’s father was trying to  _kill_ him. Talk about family drama. They had never been normal, though, far from it. But they were both okay with that. 

He had just kinda blurted it out, all geared up, bow compacted in his hand, just waiting to be sprung open. 

“Felicity, will you marry me after this?”

She had been shocked, so much that she didn’t peck him back. Five minutes later on the comms she finally replied. “Yes. Oliver yes! When you come back to me.”

The fourth time he said it was on the day she was dressed in white (with a little bit of green underneath–she had told him) and he was dressed to the nines. 

“Marry Me?” he whispered, as he leaned down to make her his wife. 

“I am!” She teased back before kissing him.

The fifth time he said it was when he saw her holding his son, Thomas Robert Queen, after a 28 hour labor. She  was sweaty, and exhausted, but radiantly happy. 

“Felicity…marry me?” She smiled, and said “of course”. 

The sixth time he said it, it was after a gigantic arguement about whether he should hang up the hood now that their third child was on it’s way and Tommy had just entered kindergarten, ranting about how his dad was the green Arrow and saved the city and beat up bad guys. They didn’t talk to each other for a week until Oliver apologized, making it up all night to his wife.

“Will you be my wife?” “Only if I’m the Green Arrow’s wife.”

He should never had considered putting the bow down. 

The seventh time and last time he said it was when he was 87 years old, and dying in his bed. He leaned over and whispered

“Felicity Meghan Smoak Queen, will you do me the greatest honor of being my wife for 57 years?”

She said yes. 


	14. Felicity's Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mylunarsolstice asked :"Why are you doing this? Why won't you just listen to me?" Oliver yelled over the comm. Felicity was glad that he wasn't in front of her, glad that he couldn't see the tears falling down her face. "Because you would sacrifice everything you can to protect those you love, now it's my turn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You do realize FZ, that if you give me an angst prompt, I WILL WRITE THE ANGST PROMPT?!?! AND IT WON”T BE HAPPY!?
> 
> You asked for it and have been warned.
> 
> Rated M for suggestion of Rape.

_"Why are you doing this? Why won't you just listen to me_?" Oliver yelled over the comm. Felicity was glad that he wasn't in front of her, glad that he couldn't see the tears falling down her face.

 "Because you would sacrifice everything you can to protect those you love, now it's my turn."

She could hear the tiny little gasp he made, a slight inhale of breathe, the small choke of a sob at what she was doing. What she had to do.

They had woken up this morning, tangled together, Oliver stroking her chin as he watched her. He always woke before her, the action ingrained in his character. Most times he would just gaze, heated, but caring and compassionate. Totally smitten, if she had to describe it. Just the act alone could wake her.

Special times occurred with his head buried between her legs.

If only she had know what that night would bring, the choice that she was forced to make. If only she had know that that morning would be the last time she woke to his brilliant face, shining with love and happiness, she never would have left. Felicity would have buried back underneath the covers, hiding them from the world.

Felicity was many thing, but she couldn’t see the future.

She didn’t have the ability to see her death.

She had received the letter at work. It came in a fancy envelope, like an invitation to a gala, or a love letter. It had genuine wax sealed with a stamp. Excitedly, she had torn it open, eagerly reading the enclosed words. Her heart sunk, stomach cramping with every paragraph she read.

The letter was from Darhk and he had figured out the Green Arrow’s identity. What Oliver feared would happen, why he had pushed her away all those years came to fruition—she became a liability.

Darhk informed her that she was to do exactly as he said or everyone would be killed. Her very first thought was to take it to Oliver, but Damien warned against that. He gave her proof that they were always watching her, conversations with Gerry in private, or with Oliver in their kitchen.

HIVE heard every word she uttered. Therefore, she couldn’t warn him without endangering his life, and Felicity had already lived six dreadful weeks of thinking he was dead, let alone more with it being her fault. The guilty blood on her hands of killing her beloved. That stain would never come out, no matter how much Lady Macbeth professed it would.

Felicity had to follow Darhks threats to the letter.

His machinations were complex; she could barely follow where the plan led. An undercover mission she could only perform where she gave herself over to whatever Darhk had contrived. It was up to her to convince her team to let her go without backup.

Darhk let her dig, search through what he was going to do with her. Unfortunately, he did it just to break her. She couldn’t let Oliver know because as much as what the evil old guy had instore for her would hurt her, it would destroy Oliver. And she couldn’t let that happen.  

So into the den she walked, prepared to meet the lions.

All was well and good until Oliver figured out the place. He still had ties to the Bratva it seemed. The second he knew it was a trap, Darhks twisted voice beckoning her on, he fought her every step. “Felicity! Don’t. Come back,” he pleaded, weighing her step with every hiccup he had. Each footfall leaded with a plea. Her resolved waivered, her body fighting the knowledge that she would become a Helen. Given to the enemy to save her army, her body to please every man.

A whore to the adversary.

The only thing that made it better was that her heart was Olivers and it would have no place in the ranks.

“Oliver, I have to. Please.” She begged him to stop, tears coursing canyons of her cheeks. “I’m doing this for you.”

“Not for me Felicity.” That just made her cry harder. A memory of her saying those same words to him, the toughest decision in front of him. She had begged him, pleaded with him not to save her, to not break his hard won vow. He had done it anyways.

That courage, that sacrifice gave her strength to do what she must.

“There was no choice to make.”

Darhk held his hand out to her. She took it, being helped into a limousine. He then motioned for her comm link.

“Oliver… I lo—I love you.”

Right before she took it out, before she sold her soul and her virtue to the devil and his minions, she heard the voice of her savior whispering in her ear.

“I love you. I will always find you.”

Three weeks later, the fight almost depleted from her, holding off the raging throngs, protecting what wasn’t hers to give, a shadow graced her cell, her dress torn, skin bruised, knuckles bloody from all the punches she gave. She may have gone willingly, but her body was her own and she would give hell to anyone that tried to touch her.

The green shadow, the clear blue eyes of _her_ Oliver, came into her cell and embraced her. She was safe. He had made her a promise, and he always kept her promises.


	15. 12 Minutes

“Babe?”

“Mmmm?”

“Fel _icity”_

 _“_ What”

“You promised.”

“I said a half an hour. It’s only been 12 minutes.”

“Look outside”

“Oh.”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Yep.” 

“It’s lying”

“No it isn’t. It’s been twelve hours. I fell asleep waiting for you.”

“…”

“Naked.”

“I’d say I’m sorry but I’m not.”

“You’re not sorry that you left your very naked and very _hard_ husband wait in the bed room with wine and candles so that you could play twelve more hours of Mario Kart?”

“…Maybe?”

“You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I love you too.”

“How about a second chance? You like giving me those, I might as well return the favor.”

“Oh! Will you do the thing you do.. with your tongue?”

“mmmmhmmm. In the _shower.”_

 _“_ Give me ten minutes, I gotta show Yoshi that I mean business. Hiyah!”


	16. Screams in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity stays the night in a haunted asylum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First off, I _know_ it's december. The time for halloween fics is long past. However, I was going through my docs and found this drabble. This is actually the short that inspired me to write "Between the Dead and the Living." Feel free to check out that one shot as well. 
> 
> This is rough, very unpolished, and un beta'd. All mistakes are mine. If you see any, feel free to point them out and have a lovely day!

Felicity  _ hated  _ Asylums 

She hated how there were straight jackets hanging on the walls, tools for lobotomy covering the table tops. She hated how they did freaky things to people who were just clinically depressed. It was as common as Chicken Pox, but not as curable. But the things that doctors used to do to ‘cure’ patients, it made Felicity shudder. 

Not to mention the patients that were actually… you know. Crazy. 

But this is where she was. 

In a hallway of an asylum, on the second floor. 

On a bed with some strange type of stain on the comforter. 

All night. 

Did she mention that she  _ hated  _ asylums? 

It just so happened that at the work party Queen Consolidated threw she may have had too many shots of tequila. In her defense, she needed the buzz because of how many misogynistic pigs her co-workers were, and Felicity was lonely. Her last boyfriend had broken up with her six months ago, and she had driven herself into work. It was this damn Halloween party that the ache was more keenly felt. She didn’t want to face another empty apartment. So more tequila it was. 

Which then Marcy dragged her into a game of Truth or Dare. How middle school. However, it was made worse when Chad-- the biggest loser of all the people at work, he always pinched her ass whenever she walked by, if it happened one more time she would report him for sexual harassment-- had dared her to spend a night in an asylum. 

Now she had to do it. 

It had come out accidentally in one of her brilliant rambles, one that Chad had overheard, the fact that abandoned asylums freaked her out. Hospitals as well. Just so called ‘haunted’ houses and buildings gave her the creeps. No thank-you. Well Chad obviously had a grudge on her, and had pulled the ace.He was so going to pay. 

Not one to back down from a challenge, even one as wigged out as this, she resolved herself to do it. She would just take her tablet with her, find a very empty room, and lock herself in, and leave the second she saw the sun on the horizon. From dusk to dawn she would stay in there. 12 hours. She could do this. 

The first hour was the worst; she jumped at everything. The wind, children screaming outside, a car passing, a fly buzzing in the room. After that she started calming down, her tablet doing a wonderful job of calming her racing heart, and occupying her mind, distracting it from creating nighttime horrors. 

All was swell until about 10pm. Felicity was minding her own business, just browsing the internet, (she had stolen a neighboring house’s wifi) when the window to her room shattered, covering her and the floor. 

She shrieked, backing into the corner, holding her tablet up to protect her. Her heart pounded and she felt light-headed. It was a ghost, probably of a patient who had died in the room, the one that had created the stain on the bed. It was coming to kill her, to terrify her so much that Felicity would die of a heart attack. She just knew it. 

“What are you doing here?” The voice intoned, a deathly low, garbled voice. The ghost was talking to her! It wanted answers, but if maybe Felicity pretended she wasn’t there or at least couldn’t understand the ghost, then maybe it would leave her alone. She just needed to get through the night. 

Footsteps came towards her. Somewhere her quick mind started putting together the puzzle. Ghosts were dead, therefore they didn’t have weight. No footsteps. 

Then why were the floorboards bending under the weight? 

Felicity finally glanced over her tablet and her eyes widened in shock. 

In all his green glory, stood the vigilante, quiver strapped to his back, hood pulled low over his eyes. The infamous bow was held at the ready, with an arrow aimed straight at her heart. 

“I’m gonna ask you one more time. What. are. You. doing. Here?” 

“I”m.. I”m uh… don’t kill me! Just staying the night, because it was a dare. Just a dare. I have to stay the whole night and if you kill me then my coworkers will think that i just skipped town cause i didn’t do the dare or that the asylum really is haunted because i never came out, so please don’t shoot me.”

She clapped her hand over her mouth, hoping to prevent her nerves from taking over her mouth. The vigilante just towered over her, not wavering, until abruptly, he loosed the string and placed the arrow back in his quiver. 

He came closer, close enough that Felicity could smell him and god… did he smell good. That colonge that always made men smell good? It couldn’t hold a candle to the way he just radiated heat. She appraised him, from the black combat boots, to the tight leather pants, and the way the sleeves stretched over his biceps. The scary vigilante was one  _ hot man.  _

He raised one finger, the motion which drew her eyes from his… package to his hand up to his face. She couldn’t make out his features in the dark, but she could feel them boring into her. 

“Stay in the room, no matter what you hear. Don’t leave until I come back for you.” 

“But--”

“I mean it. Any screaming, crying, howling  you name it, you stay here. Don’t peak out the door, don’t open the door.” 

Felicity nodded. 

“Good.” With that he strode out of the room. 

Felicity could feel herself shaking as she slunk to the floor. The vigilante had been in front of her. The nameless hero that was slowly changing the city had stood right in front of her hand had pointed an arrow at her. Now that she thought about it, he was just reacting to her unlikely presence, not that he viewed her as someone to be killed. But still, having a weapon pointed at you is not nice. 

A scream shattered the night. 

True to her promise, Felicity didn’t open the door. She grabbed the questionable blanket off the bed and wrapped herself in it, tucking it over her head. 

More sounds came. There were lots of screaming, with a mixture of howls and moans thrown in. Footsteps scampered past her door. Gunshots. Cries of pain abruptly cut off. Doors slammed, shaking the building. Asbestos rained down from someone over head. 

Felicity covered her ears and tried to block it out. She repeated a mantra over and over in her head. “You’re fine, the vigilante will keep you safe. You’re fine, he will keep you safe.” 

Soon the cries died down, until the asylum was creepily silent once again. The door swung open and she yelped, her tablet coming up to defend against the nasty creature. 

But it was just the vigilante, his quiver decidedly less full than it was the first time she had seen him. His suit was covered in blood, and his chin speckled in a black substance. The moonlight from the window cast a light on them, distorting the shadows, and he turned in such a way that she could see his eyes. 

Blue eyes. 

“What--what was that? Downstairs?” 

His mouth twisted from flat to frown. “Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Now let’s get you out of here.”

“No! I have to stay the whole night.”

“Miss--”

“You don’t understand. I have a reputation to uphold. I have never backed down from a dare in my life, I don’t intend to start now. So unless you can magically make the sun rise in the sky, I’m not leaving.” 

He huffed, then started pacing back and forth. He did that for a few minutes, every so often stopping and glaring at her, then resuming his motion. Eventually, he settled next to her on the floor. 

“If you’re gonna stay here, there’s nothing I can do to make you leave of your own accord. I will feel better if I stay here with you.” 

She nodded, comforted by his presence. Surely no more ghosts or creatures would attempt to attack her with him here. 

The chill from the window made Felicity shiver, the warmth he gave off having her scoot closer to him, till they were pressed  together, hip to hip. She attempted to offer some of the blanket to him but he just shook his head. 

Suddenly she was exhausted, the long day catching up as well as the fall out from the adrenaline. The vigilante would make a nice pillow and since he wasn’t planning to leave anytime soon…

The next thing Felicity knew she was lying horizontally, her head cradled by something warm. 

“‘Morning” 

She looked up, then sat up super quickly. She had been lying in the lap of the Hood! And that one glimpse upward made her realize she knew exactly who he was.  She could see under the hood. Plus she knew that lattes did not bullet holes make. 

“Oh my god you’re the Hood.”

Oliver Queen slipped his hood back, exposing the smeared grease paint. 

“Hello, Felicity. And I regret to inform you that you’re dead.”  


End file.
